A somewhat tall man appeared before a glass door. Opening it slowly, the bell atop the door rang out to designate a new person entered the building. He placed his hands deep inside his pockets as he looked quite out of place here. His eyes darted back and forth as he watched those who now gazed at his likeness. IT seemed they were assuming his intentions were ill. Shrugging this note off, the man wandered to a computer at the farr back. It seemed hidden away enough to be rather quaint of a hiding spot. It was here he found someone had hacked this computer to play a certain game more than do anything else. The man raised his brow slightly at this peculiarity. After starting up the game, he managed to create a character. This game seemed based off of a series he enjoyed, back in his life that is.

This, 'star wars' game seemed quite fun at first. It was after a few minutes he met this interesting man who began to give him things for his account. It was all well and good until suddenly, a wild character appeared. The man he had befriended seemed to change and become brutally evil in a sort of way. The original man's face was filled with anger. His fists slammed on the table as he coyly played along. He managed to find out the man's home address where he disappeared into the horizon without looking back.

It took all of ten minutes to appear at the door of this man's apartment. The original man knocked upon the door several times. When asked who it was, he simply stated a sentence.

"It's a friend. Open up Brooskie"

He said in a gentle happy seeming tone. After a woman opened the door, he asked where the man was. After being lead inside, the original man stood in the doorway to the room as the second man asked who he was. In one swift movement, the original man reached inside a black coat he bore grabbing hold of a black pistol. As his movements pulled forth the pistol from her sacred home his voice boomed across the area.

"A real fucking Guild Leader."

In that instant a bullet pierced the man's head. Within the next instant, it seemed the man was gone leaving a small note telling the woman he was sorry but it had to be done. And with that, he disappeared from the demons plaguing his mind and body.

It would be several days before the man met a beautiful pair of ladies at a small club. These girls seemed quite skilled in the arts of combat though judging by their wished attire. They seemed, quite like Ancient ninja would have looked from what is known as Anime. Shaking this from his mind he began to chat up these ladies.

"So, what's your name stranger?"

One of the ladies asked as the man smiled revealing his somewhat interesting appearance from the shadows of the booth. He allowed his casual attire this day to be adorned where his favored lover, Reverentia, was stored safely on his side under his shirt.

"Well, My name is Vicente De Mora Alvares, after my Father. But if you really want to know something interesting, I'm Russian. And you know what they say about Russian guys."

The girls giggled as they wrapped their arms around his waist. In that moment Vicente groped both the ladie's hind quarters. It was then that they seemed to turn to demons themselves. They both slapped him square in the face. The only reaction he had was a devilish grin which he bared. Inside his left ear he could hear a whisper from one of the ladies.

"I can smell the blood on you vampire."

Vicente let out a strong chuckle as he stepped back for a moment. Raising his left hand to his face, this chuckle seemed to echo in to a cackle as his voice rose above the crowd which began to scatter away.

"WELL THEN! Since the jokes on me, Mind telling me your names? Such devilishly beautiful creatures should have SOME sort of name that you go by?"

The ladies entered a sort of pose before him. They placed their backs towards him while they looked at him through their turned heads. Each one had the opposite arm spread outwards as they talked.

"We are Yukiko and Yumiko! We're here to destroy you!""We are Yukiko and Yumiko! We're here to destroy you!"

Vicente's eyes wandered as they spoke, they seemed to allow him to take in the view. It was now he noticed their attire since his main focus was their figure before. The left woman bore a type of dress tied in the back with blue silk string brought to a bow. Below that she wore a gentle skirt all in black color. Her hair was a beautiful washed out blonde color that was brought to two large tails behind her.

Her head was faceted with an interesting type of ornament which seemed like an offshoot of a bonnet. Below this she wore tight fitting cloth shoes except her left leg had a stocking type object which reached to just above her knee ending in fishnet. Her bra was also fishnet which seemed to only instigate Vicente more. He noticed now that her left arm wore a long tied sleeve which matched her top attire. This arm sleeve was also tied to a long blue-golden string like object which ended at the other woman's right arm which was outstretched. Her attire was slightly different but essentially the same. Her right sleeve was much shorter making it seem only like a long glove more then anything. On the opposite hand she wore the long sleeve that resembled the one the other girl wore.

Her attire was slightly different in the top area as she wore a less elegant looking top strapped by a single golden tether that looked silken in nature. This woman bore tight fitting cloth pants with a section made of fishnet upon her right leg, exactly the middle of her thigh. Next to note was the fact that her hair was a darker almost black color. Both their respective eyes, the first being blue and second being a golden color, pierced Vicente soulless body. The two ladies bolted towards him with an intention to catch him inside their wire like string shared between them. His eyes narrowed as he laughed intently.

"I see your intentions ladies. Please, tell me you're not planning on trapping an old guy up with such silly toys."

As Vicente vaulted over the strings he landed gracefully behind them. Though, he didn't realize that's exactly what they were hoping for. In that instant both ladies stopped and planted a hard chest kick dead center and point blank. This caused his body to skid backwards several feet until he was against the wall. His voice cackled to a surefire laugh as he spoke up.

"Well then, I hope that was as good for you as it was me. Because I'm just getting started."

With that, Vicente bolted towards the center of the two. The moment he got with in range both girls bolted past him. However, it was too late as Vicente vaulted over the two landing behind them. Once again the ladies aimed a point blank devastating chest kick. In that instant he caught both feet as he spoke in a demonic like tone.

"If your left legs were Christmas and your Right legs were New Years day, tell me, can I visit you in between the holidays?"

With a mighty shove he pushed the two off of him to land on the ground several feet away. His body shifted backwards as his left hand reached deep inside his pants. With in a moment he turned to face behind him as his gun was now in front of him. Looking up at the sky he spoke lightly.

"Hey, you, yeah you reading this post. See, this is my secret weapon. her name's Reverentia. They don't know this but she's my lover! But aside from that, she's beautiful isn't she? Oh wait, you can't actually see her. Hey, person writing this, POST A PICTURE OF THE GUN AF-"

Before he could finish the sentence the two women landed a firm kick to the back of his head. Like slow motion his body began to fall with both girls following through with the kick towards the fall.

His voice sounded out as if it was being slowed down to a crawl. Suddenly, like time was returned to normal he landed upon the ground where his body curled upwards starting with his legs. He was able to push the two ladies off and land upon his feet striking a heroic pose with his head looking to the left yet slightly up, his hands upon his hips, and feet spread slightly shoulder width apart. His left eye winked as he whispered to the sky.

"That's a real winner's pose right there."

Vicente was thrown from his position with a firm kick to the stomach. Once that happened the two women ran their hands through their hair as they chuckled at the Vampire. They were Amateur vampire hunters for sure, but they knew a little on how to fight. It was then that Vicente gripped the pistol he had dropped that landed next to him. Moving upwards a single shot echoed through the area as all the participants simply stood still. Vicente looked evilly towards the two girls. Yukiko simply looked down to see her chest was pierced by a bullet. As she fell to her knees, Yumiko growld with anger attempting to kill Vicente. Luckily, the tether that tied the two kept her from doing so. Vicente's eyes glowed a devilish red as he began speaking.

"As much as I'd love to stay and chat, I'm really quite hungry. So I'm afraid I'm going to take a bite to eat. It's time for some, fast food."

With that, his body bolted forward grabbing hold of Yumiko tightly while bending her head back. He allowed his face to devour her blood solely inside and out. A vitalizing feeling washed over his body as he felt the fresh blood deepen his resolve and love of being a vampire. Next of course, came Yukiko. Preceding to devour her as well, he'd allow the bodies to go limp. In that moment, he had taken both girl's essences deep inside himself. Tossing the bodies aside he began to walk out the club door and wander the streets.

"Looks like that meal was, to go."

His smile lead him to wander the streets looking for a new entertaining idea.

His latest adventure in France had been anything but uneventful. Between his brief stop over at the Church's orphanage and his battle with the Buddhist monk to claim the second piece of his prize, he had enough stories to fill an entire book in the first installment of what would more than likely be a lengthy series. Unfortunately for Almos, the latest scroll was indecipherable as of yet and without the added benefit of his contractual ritual it would remain that way. Left with a few days to himself before he could once again invoke the dark powers that be, he'd settled on simply covering his tracks against any would be pursuers. The incident at the orphanage would have likely diverted the Church's attention and sent them searching in the wrong direction but there was no way that they would miss the news of a Buddhist assassination one day's trek from there. Realizing that he would need to back track once again, Lorand had decided to head back north and across the Atlantic until things calmed down a bit in Europe. The United States was a tempting option but considering the generally good relations between the Church and America's anti-supernatural forces, the risk of his enemies once again bearing down on his was just too great. Instead, the former monk had settled on Canada.

True, Canada also possessed a supernatural task force but when compared to the zealous True Cross and relentless VWAT, they were rather small potatoes. Besides, it wasn't like Almos had any great desire to go around causing a massacre anytime soon. All he wanted was a little rest, a little relaxation, and...

...a line of scream people fleeing a night club in sheer terror?

"Well then, that's something you don't see everyday," the vampire said plainly, while continuing down the sidewalk towards the club doors as the last of the former bar patrons disappeared into the bowels of the small town he found himself in. Pausing well outside the doorway to the club, Almos took a moment to take measure of the situation before proceeding any further. As close as he was to his ultimate goal these days, it couldn't hurt to be too careful.

The smell of blood was in the air, wafting up through the musk of sweat and lust that permeated the club along with the feint hint of gunpowder. Someone had died just now. Probably just some drunken bar fight that got a little out of hand...or at least that's what he would have said had a large, purple haired man not come strolling out of the establishment making quips about his latest meal without a care in the world.

Hands in the pockets of his overcoat, the Hungarian vampire quirked a brow at the strange sight in front of him. Honestly, what sort of desperate egomaniac would feel the need to parade around with such a ridiculous hair color. Suddenly, Lorand's voice cut through the darkness of the night to grab hold of the purple madman's attention with a confident, if a bit condescending, tone. "Evening. Having fun are we?"

Traveling was a fun pastime of many people, vampires included. This wasn't about him right now, though. Smacking the door to a small, suburban house with the end of his bat, Seymour snarled and growled like some alien creature, scratching at the door between knocks. "Ken! Ken! I know you're in there, Ken!" Who Ken was, no one knew. There might not even be anyone in that house right now. "Come play with me, Ken!" His knocking was beginning to break through the door.

And there was something going on in the background, or whatever. Some purple douche and a blond pimp. They weren't important, though. Screaming children were almost interesting, but there were none to be found. Just screaming adults.

The man, the interesting man known as Vicente De Mora Alvarez was no less interested in the current state of affairs that other would be conversationalists would perhaps be. The night seemed slightly cold, or perhaps it was his lack of body heat that made it seem that way. Brushing his mind from the current thoughts his mental anguish of the last few minute's would lead to a most interesting physical and vocal outburst. In a sudden movement his body stopped causing him to cough slightly and then precede to act as though he was about to wretch. After that had subsided for only a moment he placed his hand on his chest where his eyes would look towards the hand upon said chest.

"Wait, indigestion? Can Vampires even GET indigestion? I guess those girls weren't Virgin Prime Rib after all. Eh, what's done is done."

His voice subsided only to be abruptly countered by a strong, somewhat cynical over toned voice slicing through the air. Vicente's gentle movements that had started ceased in their tracks as he slowly turned to face the source of the vocal outburst. As he did, his eyes centered upon the man, never looking at his eyes just yet. Instead, he pursued the source of the vocal outburst with no ill intent, as of yet. For now he considered the man not a threat. As such, he didn't much care what happened to him.

It was then that he could smell the faint smell of something. It seemed almost like Helium. Was it Helium? Smelling deeper he managed to pinpoint the smell coming from an odd looking child like creature banging on some door. Vic allowed his mind to catalog this creature and keep watch over him however, he categorized the creature as fully harmless.

"Huh, smells like there's nothing in there but hot air. Wouldn't be bad to make a bag out of it."

His voice pierced the area upon a momentary thought which he accidently let aloud. It was now that his attention turned mostly back to the man standing in front of him. Staring at him intently and almost, interested, he allowed himself to examine the man's stature.

"Hm, strong looking, fit, possible vampire, possible human. Unsure."

With that thought he turned to face the sky for a moment as he spoke.

"What do you think Reader? Is he a vampire? Hm, well read up a little bit and then get back to me. For now I'll assume he is and take it accordingly!"

His voice chirped upwards a tiny bit at the end of that sentence as he put his thumb up towards the sky. From there, his eyes laid now upon the man before him. A QUESTION! oh yes, this gentleman, unseemly at times as were all vampires, had asked a question! Yes, what was it now, ah yes, having a good time perhaps was it? Nodding a moment, Vicente allowed his mind to examine the question. In an instant he occupied an answer for such a question.

"Why yes, well for the most part. My day was quite well. Considering those two would be vampire hunters were pretty bad at fighting. Well I can't exactly say that now can I, I mean they DID hit me a few times. We'll call it beginner's luck. But as fate would have it they're not sitting well with me. I think they're not Prime Rib Material. Definitely not. Not even choice steak those two. Oh yes, but still, how are you Edward James Olmos of California state."

His voice seemed perky at first but as he talked it vented more towards a state of uncaring and disregard for what was actually going on. The more he talked to this man the more he seemed less interested than he first was. It wasn't that he was trying to be rude or anything. Social interactions with anyone but his companions were, shall we say for lack of better words, boring as fuck.

With that in motion his mind clicked away at some inevitable and possible outcomes of the situation. He remembered the number two which allowed his mind to click a moment and remember that his lover, Reverentia, was now slightly hungry. SHe'd only eaten two meals this day and she would soon hunger for more. His eyes turned to the child like creature for a moment as he thought of this little problem but shrugged off the nature of THAT quest for later. Who would want their lover to eat meat that's spoiled and full of balloon Helium at the top anyway. In the preceding moments his mind would calculate the time it would take to allow Reverentia to eat the rotted meat. It was apparent the being would most likely be able to visually acquire the architecture of her glistening skin in the moon light. With that being said, he began to move slightly.

His facing direction kept both the child and Vampiric man in front of him while backing towards the opposite side of the street of the child. With those thoughts in mind he'd now be far behind the child and facing both of them. This would allow ample time for if the child moved, he'd move more than he had to before. That being said, Reverentia would have ample time to hurdle across street in an instant. Far beyond what any being, including vampire childer, are capable of. Especially if said vampire didn't know the woman was coming.

With those thoughts in mind Vicente's left hand now rested upon his left hip where he kept one of his combat knives, hopefully obscured by the dark shadows of the current situation. That being said he quietly slipped her out of her home, waking her for the night jaunt he felt he might just need. In a similar motion, Vicente allowed his right hand to rest upon the small of his back keeping his hand ample and ready to caress Reverentia's beautiful curves if need be. In the time it took him to move his right hand his left hand rested behind his back gripping the beautiful beige leg of one of his twins. In doing so, his eyes crafted a sense of nothingness. He gave no physical nor visible emotional pretell to his current actions. For now, he'd simply speak to the man before him, while casually keeping his expert peripheral vision on display.

It was during the movement towards the opposite side of the street that Vicente's figure was shown for a brief moment. Though it was most likely all that the man needed to view his conversational opposite.

Being quite the rebel he enjoys dressing akin to modern Gothic culture. With this in mind he tends to enjoy wearing a somewhat tight neck belt with chromed iron. For a necklace he wears a small framed picture. Sadly there is no picture inside the object as of yet. Upon his eyes he bears three studs on the lower part of his ear with three rings on the upper.

His chest is clothed by a frayed and slightly torn undershirt made of soft cotton. Above this he wears a sort of cloth coat with frayed and torn sleeves which he keeps held by miniature belts around his upper arm. His left wrist bears a double heart bracelet curved over on itself. Added to this his right wrist bears a somewhat loose studded bracelet.

Vic's left pointer finger bears a ring with the ancient symbol for death, a skull. Upon his waist, or rather below his waist he wears a leather belt with the same jewelry pieces. One piece of chain reaches from his belt to his neck tying the two belts together. His pants are a cotton like pair of slightly baggy black pants. Being generic pants with pockets he felt it was better suited to his casual look. For his feet he bears simple black sneakers which remain snug to his feet despite the rest of his clothes being slightly baggy.

And of course last but not least, the second twin now hold up on his right leg easily accessible to the man who owned the leg. The surrounding area was quite suburban. It was only now that Vicente realized exactly where he was. He had managed to find his way not far from the original home in this place that he approached. The street was lined with buildings of all types, big, small, some with fire escapes some without. It was a stereotypical suburban street indeed, with a club to boot.

He was surrounded by idiots and madmen. Oddly enough, this had become something of a routine situation for the former monk in recent years. In fact, his present situation was bringing back vivid memories of one encounter in London roughly two years ago. He'd been on his way to pick through the city's most famous library for anything pertinent to his seemingly endless search when Lorand had run afoul with two vampires possessing similar interests. The first had considered himself something of a treasure hunting librarian while the second was quite possibly the most pompous egotists Almos had ever met. Despite his best efforts, negotiations eventually broke down and Lorand was forced to do what he did best.

This time though, his newfound friends didn't seem to be quite so painfully conceited as those two had been. Instead, they were more along the lines of infuriatingly manic.

Lovely.

On one hand, there was the raving moron screaming and scratching incessantly at a nearby doorway. On the other hand, there was the Gothic man with the garish hair color who seemed quite happy to converse with his own imaginary friends. Despite those ramblings, Almos was able to garner a few useful pieces of information from his statements. First off, he did indeed seem to be a vampire. Most likely a weak one, but a vampire nonetheless. Second, and perhaps more importantly, the purple haired madman might have a clue as to just who Almos was. Granted, the comparison to James Olmos may have just been pure coincidence but that was a chance that the Hungarian vampire had no intention of taking. He'd come too far and hidden his identity for too long to let some simpleton go running around with it.

Catching the purple haired vampire's subtle movements towards the interior of his clothes, Almos smoothly removed left hand from his pocket. Things hadn't quite advanced to the point of violence but it never hurt to be prepared. Keeping his demeanor casual and nonthreatening, he began to advance towards the obviously armed individual in an indirect, circular manner. "I'll ask you to avoid calling me that ever again. I am curious as to what brought that to mind but before we get that far, I suggest relaxing a bit. No reason to go pulling a weapon just yet," he said, running his red eyes over the purple vampire's attire once more. Might have to kill this one for his fashion sense if nothing else.

With a massive heave from his advancely muscled body, the door came crashing down as he plowed straight through it. Ken wasn't inside, though. "Ken's not inside," he repeated, waving the bat in the air while walking back out. Apparently, there was a bit of hoedown going on out here, since both these kids decided they wanted to fight. That was rather odd, considering no one had made any sort of aggressive move before now. They were even outside the bar, so they couldn't even claim it was to protect an unsupervised minor from the clutches of an evil cowboy.

But if it's a fright they want, it's a fright they'll get. He smacked Whackity Will (everyone else had a stupid name for their weapon) against the ground. Nothing happened, since it was a wooden bat and the ground was concrete sidewalk. That was much less intense than first planned.

Tetra could feel the world becoming much more interesting. This made him quite, quite happy. The moment the door burst down his body used all of his might to leap backward several yards all the while keeping both men with in his view. His movements allowed him to view the childer to smack his bat upon the ground, concrete perhaps? As he flew through the air his words would pierce the night chill with deadly precision.

"Forgive me for being innately distrusting."

It was now that the world would notice, his visage changed greatly. He was no more the psychotic insane stupid idiot that was just before the two. When he finally landed Reverentia was clutched tightly with in his right hand as he began to speak.

"I have no intention of fighting you. Though allow me to probe a tiny bit."

Vicente said as his eyes looked directly into Almos' all the while his pointer finger faced towards Seymour ever so slightly but enough to catch the attention of anyone with in the area.

"Judging by your actions and sudden breeding hostility I can surmise your name is close to what I said on a whimsical joke. Being that is it is, I can also deduce that you are on the run from someone. Well, since that's what I'm lead to believe then I see no reason as to tell anyone for I still don't even know your name. Nor do I care about whatever it is you did or will do. Also excuse me for being jumpy. I don't exactly know you so I must assume you may be a threat. So this being what it is, why don't we agree to stay defensive and not take action towards each other. I can live with that. and in return, what do you wish me to call you? My name, is Tetrahydrocannabinol.

With these movements, he allowed his body to keep himself with in a defensive stance while keeping the two with in visual range so he could respond if need be.

The sudden crack of a nearby impact was enough to draw Almos' attention for the briefest of moments. The screaming fool across the street had decided to turn a bat against the concrete sidewalk before him. The former monk couldn't help but scoff before shaking his head dismissively. What was that supposed to be? An invitation to fight? Regardless of the short man's intentions, Almos was not yet prepared to go around slaughtering drunken vandals without provocation just yet. At least not until he'd reached the bottom of this latest wrinkle concerning the fool in purple.

Returning his gaze to the now armed vampire, Almos stood in silence for a moment while his new friend began his little speech. That stillness did not last long and midway through his long winded explanation Almos began advancing on him once more. He didn't rush the purple haired vampire. In fact, his pace was best compared to a leisurely stroll carrying him directly towards the gunman. However, even after abandoning his earlier, indirect method, Lorand's body language still lacked any outward signs of violent intent. Of course, that was not to say he'd abandoned his underlying presence of aggression. Considering the way in which he continued backing away, the purple people eater clearly had personal space issues and Almos was more than happy to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

"You've got a sharp eye, Weed, and yet I can't quite trust someone willing to pull a gun on me," he said, continuing to devour the paltry space between the two of them with methodical, measured footsteps. Finally coming close to an arm's distance, he slowly raised his left hand, palm open. Even now the vampire's aura lacked the stark glint of killing intent, painting his actions as oddly captivating, much like the fascinating image of an oncoming car burned into the eyes of a stunned deer. "Until we get to the bottom of this, you can call me...Nobody."

The blond slid in again, shortening the distance between them as his open hand drew closer and closer to the gunman's face, specifically, so that his index and middle fingers were pointed towards the purple vampire's eyes. Finally, Almos paused, content to let his slightly bent arm hang in the air between them. His hand was close enough to reach the purple gunman's eyes by simply straightening his limb but for the moment, the sharpened fingertips were stock still in that twilight range. Close enough to strike but just far enough to not trigger any instinctive twitches on the part of his conversation partner. It was an intimidation tactic through and through, performed for little more than Almos' own satisfaction at the thought of causing another being uncomfortable anxiety. Through it all, his smile remained unchanged, oddly disconnected from the present situation and best compared to a parent watching their child at play.

Scared little babies running away. He hadn't clubbed any babies in a long time. Or seals. In fact, he'd never clubbed seals, let alone baby versions of them. It would be a new experience. And, with his luck, there was one right in front of him, dressed like a gimp and stroking the handle on that gun like it was a penis. Just whip that thing out already and get this started. The gun, that is.

Scurrying closer like a lobster doctor, he felt the sudden urge to rip that finger off. Pointing is rude. He was going to get all up in his business for that. Then he'd take that collar thing and throw it in the river. Was there a river around here? He'd find out as soon as that collar was nice and detached right in his hand. And it should be, save for some overwhelming urge not to fight right now. It would sure be fun, though.

But, since that wasn't possible, he just kept walking sideways to follow those two along. Not like there was anyone else out that night. Anymore.

Tetra kept his eyes focused upon Almos while his finger stayed pointing at Seymour. Coming to a stop he would watch the seemingly non-ill intent vampiris infected individual walk towards him. Something struck odd in this man. 'Yes, YES! Of course! He has no real feeling, his demeanor, his actions. OF COURSE!" his mind echoed silently to himself as he simply stopped his movements. As Almos reached closer and closer he noticed the man behind him scurrying about like a cockroach searching for the leftovers of a meal which was about to be eaten. Tetra could see the extent of believed power now from Almos' own lack of auratic projection. At a stage of life, there is no more need to express one's own power. There is no need to express one's ability for it matters not since there is little many can do about it. It was this that sparked Tetra's next words before Almos was half way towards Tetra.

"I see. I can see I have little time left for this world. So allow me to at least part with this simple speech. You see, Nobody-"

Tetra said as his body turned to the right allowing his face to remain looking at Almos.

" My life has been one mistake after another. My first and most devastating mistake was thinking God could, no, would allow my very own happiness to continue. Instead, the demon of a lord ripped it from my hands the moment it was set in stone to be something more fantastic than even he could have predicted. Since then, as I guess you've come to notice, my actions are to only mock, uproot, upturn, and cause upheaval in the world's norms to show my thanks for his gracious actions towards my life. I accept your terms, Mr. Nobody."

Tetra's words would stop as Almos would just come with in range of his body. As he started to raise his arm Tetra's body backed away slightly to allow his body to face Almos fully now, this put enough space between them that if Almos extended his fingers they would just miss his eyes with a few centimeters of precision. As this was being done, Tetra's left hand rested the knife with in it's holster while Reverentia rested tightly to his body. He would allow his movements to show his non-ill will giving no indication as to his mental, emotional, nor physical status of the matter. Instead, he'd begin to reach into his pocket as he spoke.

"Allow me a hit, if you would."

He said as his left hand would now place a blunt with in his lips while lighting it with a small metal lighter. In doing so, he'd take a deep breath placing the lighter back in his pocket. Holding that breath for a full minute he'd exhale towards the side. This allowed the smoke to carry through Almos and towards the presence of Seymour. At this moment, Tetra's eyes would stay, still, locked upon Almos'. It seemed there was no provocation, yet, at the same time there was obviously something amiss here. It was, almost, as if these two strangers were nearly working in tandem. This would be interesting to say the least. Now that he had made sure things were with in his grasp, the world, for the raging lunatic of mental dissonance as well as self desiccating misfortune harrald, would haze for a moment. No visibility of smoke had ever entered the air for them.

They would however feel the smoke press against their faces perhaps causing them to blink due to the sudden blurring. With in that instant, reality clashed with reality, falsehoods were cast away as reality as reality was cast away as falsehood. What was fake? What was real? Well, no one knew. Nothing seemed different, so there was no cause for falsehood. Was Almos always facing Tetra allowing his eyes to gaze upon Seymour since Seymour was behind Tetra? Had Tetra always trusted Seymour enough to cast away his doubts and face Almos? Was Seymour right in front of Almos this whole time looking to feed upon Tetra? The answer was yes. Whether or not they realized this was what happened, they had been targeting the wrong person! The man closest to this creeping enmity was Tetra's visual architecture, it even smelled of the man's name. To Almos, the man behind him was Tetra, as if he teleported during the blink of an eye switching places with Seymour! If it looked like a duck, quacked like a duck, smelled like duck feces. Well it was a duck!

Well, aside from perhaps goslings as they're, perhaps baby geese and geese sometimes smell like ducks? Digressing the point, Nothing seemed to have changed aergo, nothing did change. It was simple mechanics of the mental illness known as RLS, Reality Listless Syndrome! No no, just kidding, there is no such disease. After rambling incoherently with in his mind Tetra allowed his body to remain in his now, adopted defensive stance which allowed his movement at a moment's notice. "Damnit, I should have kept watching that childe. Damnit I can't see behind me, is he even getting closer?" Tetra asked himself as he attempted, but was unable to eye behind him.

It all could have been so simple. A bit of conversation with perhaps a dash of verbal abuse and it all could have been over, quickly fading from Almos' memory as he let the purple vampire sneak away into the night. But then the weed just had to go and run his mouth, digging himself deeper and deeper into his own grave. Maybe, just maybe, he really had referred to the former monk as Olmos purely out of coincidence. It was a long shot, but it was possible. Unfortunately for the purple people eater, he'd decided to play the wrong hand by trying to appeal to Almos' empathy. That tragic back story of his was a perfect reflection of Lorand's own experiences. Too perfect, in fact, to be considered yet another coincidence by any stretch of the imagination. The sudden appearance of another vampire in this small town, the strangely similar name, and now the identical back story all led to a singular conclusion; the purple vampire knew who Almos was.

In his long experience as a vampire, Almos had made it a point to always try and know more about those he dealt with than they knew about him. It was for that precise reason that recent events had served to consistently grate on his temper. First, Ogreman had waltzed into his life with Lorand's full history on the back of his hand and the raw power to use it against him. Then there was the Buddhist monk who tried to psychoanalyze him following their battle in the monastery. And now there was this upstart vampire who had the gall to try and black mail him without the common courtesy to be up front about it. Enough was enough. The Hungarian vampire had had more than his fair share of being jerked around like a dog on a leash in recent months.

"You talk to much," Almos interjected as soon as the purple weed finished his damnable sob story. It wasn't much in the way of last words, but Lorand had learned a long time ago that there was plenty of time to monologue after the other person was already dead and even more time to exploit them should they be unaware of such. This was just such an occasion but surprisingly, his smile didn't fade. Rather than allow his anger to bubble to the surface in a self-destructive tantrum, the blond vampire kept it chained and cool within the pit of his stomach, allowing the images of what he would soon inflict upon the object of his discontent to keep his winning smile in place.

Without warning, the cursed chain flew forth from Almos' extended left arm. Covered by the sleeve of his coat, the Bloodied Links had been hidden from view until this point and driven only by his own mental commands, there was no physical tell to draw from in order to avoid the lethal strike. Had hand not already been in the weed's face, the purple vampire might have been able to correctly interpret the shift beneath Lorand's sleeve. It was unfortunate that the large mouthed newborn had elected to try dodging his fingertips by only a few centimeters considering that the Bloodied Links' range extended well beyond that. If all went according to plan and the spiked end of Enkidu buried itself between the weed's eyes and deep into his brain, it would then be a simple matter to violently, and repeatedly, slam the talkative fool's form into the concrete.

Tetra's head was impaled by the chain. His eyes watering, sinking feeling slithering across his mouth as the pain welled with in his body. He could barely move as Almost began to twist, move, and slam the being around like a sack of cute puppies. Tetra wondered a lot about this however. He wondered, how or rather why, this man was so adamant about destroying a total stranger. Well, as the events continued he found that the before used actions had succeeded and thus laid simply to show they were easily manipulated. Shaking his head, he slowly stepped back to get enough range from his would be attacker to watch the spectacle. Almos and Seymour would watch as the blond brute decimating the purple vampire's body to bits in his own feely thrashing way. The smell of the man's name never touching anyone's senses. Not yet. The initiation ritual had begun. Tetra now knew what he had suspected. This man was far more deadly than he let on.

Taking this now presented opportunity, it was necessary to deal with the issue head on. Tetra took the combat knife from his left side gripping it tightly. At the precise right moment when Almos was finished, Tetra moved with his hand using an RGEO grip. While moving with all of his might, he'd pass through the layered skin, muscle, and bone with relative ease if the attack connected. In essence, the unavoidable prelude of melons rolling upon the floor. Tetra would simply raise Reverentia with ease, placing three perfect shots. One for the man, one behind the man if he ran, and one in front of the man if he ran. Two birds, perhaps one stone? It was more or less obvious the large blond brute was finished, yes? It could be, if by some incomprehensible luck Almos dodged the single perfect slice through his neck to sever the mental capacity to regenerate. But then again, he was indeed strong so it was possible. Could he know what was to come? Why had Almos even looked in the direction of his eyes? Why did Seymour even look at his fingers? Oh the interesting questions that Tetra will handily ask as he continued to puff away on his blunt.

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Spoiler:

So you won't feel a thing and can't dodge it by feeling the blade, no pain.

John acknowledged the finger, which means he looked at it. Almos, you didn't really acknowledge me looking at you/what you did state allowed my eyes to connect for lack of detail to the contrary.

Tetra wrote:Vicente said as his eyes looked directly into Almos' all the while his pointer finger faced towards Seymour ever so slightly but enough to catch the attention of anyone with in the area.

This was obscured by the first technique so it connected due to lack of detail specifying it didn't.

Tetra wrote:They would however feel the smoke press against their faces perhaps causing them to blink due to the sudden blurring. With in that instant, reality clashed with reality, falsehoods were cast away as reality as reality was cast away as falsehood. What was fake? What was real? Well, no one knew. Nothing seemed different, so there was no cause for falsehood. Was Almos always facing Tetra allowing his eyes to gaze upon Seymour since Seymour was behind Tetra? Had Tetra always trusted Seymour enough to cast away his doubts and face Almos? Was Seymour right in front of Almos this whole time looking to feed upon Tetra? The answer was yes. Whether or not they realized this was what happened, they had been targeting the wrong person! The man closest to this creeping enmity was Tetra's visual architecture, it even smelled of the man's name. To Almos, the man behind him was Tetra, as if he teleported during the blink of an eye switching places with Seymour! If it looked like a duck, quacked like a duck, smelled like duck feces. Well it was a duck!

This is Eleanor. A few things should be discussed before combat continues.

1). Almos posted that his actions took place immediately after the large speech THC gave. This alone would negate his use of the smoke...

2)...and the fact that pulling out a blunt, then lighting it is not a free action. Therefore Almos would have had plenty of time to attack before it was lit and that ability was put into play.

3). You cannot, and I repeat, cannot post an effect AFTER someone else posts their actions. In other words, you cannot decide what your illusion is after the person posts their attack. It is the same as conveniently dodging a bullet you didn't know was coming. This is godmodding and will not be tolerated.

Also, your "combat" is convoluted and complicated, making for confusing reading. Please work on making it more concise and clear.

_________________Have not I commanded you? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be you dismayed: for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9

1). No, if I am reading this entire situation correctly, Almos never once touched THC, and the one time he did come close, your character moved away from him. Thus, no contact was made...

2). Which is not a problem anyway, as your own abilities are by sight and smoke at this point. And I quote: The Third Level of Illusionary Skill will be debated/Unlocked at a higher level of Vampirism. Your third ability is to use touch for the illusions, an ability you do not have at the moment.

3). Since you posted Almos missing due to this "illusion" you created without first lying out what exactly he was seeing (though you might have, however your posts are complicated and again convoluted) you are indeed working outside the boundaries of the rules. This is not how illusionry magic works, and perhaps you should talk to someone else who uses it for pointers.

At this point, if no effort is made to correct the previous post, I will allow Almos a post negating the actions, as they are not within the rules and the character is acting outside the limits of their abilities.

OOC: Welp, it's been over 24 hours since the ruling was made and there's been no sign of any edits to the post so I'm going to go ahead and post. As was previously stated, I'll be taking advantage of that opening created by the speech and retrieving the blunt to void the offending actions discussed above. Incidentally, that means that no response was made to my previous attack so I believe this constitutes a kill. I'd appreciate it if the Staff would indulge us one more time to rule on this. If it's not concrete enough for a kill, I'll happily edit this post in accordance with the ruling. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Just as planned, the spiked tip of Enkidu speared through the center of the purple haired vampire's face to bury itself deep within his skull. Nestled comfortably between the right and left hemispheres of the weed's brain, the Bloodied Links came to rest for only an instance before Almos utilized his telekinetic control over the weapon to violently thrash him into the surrounding pavement. Meat was horribly bruised, bones were terribly broken, and the sharp sounds of impact reverberated outwards until the purple people eater was reduced to a thoroughly tenderized lump of beef.

Gazing upon his most recent handiwork, Lorand took a sigh of relief before finishing the job with a swift right handed chop to relieve the remains of its head. One could never be too careful when it came to violent executions like this. On one hand, yes, his opponent might not have posed an overwhelming danger at the present moment. But on the other hand, allowing a proud young vampire the opportunity to walk away from such a beating would only create a lasting grudge that might turn up again at a point in time when the weed was a threat. That was something that Almos just couldn't allow.

Not being in a particularly hungry mood, the Hungarian vampire took only a passing sample of the fallen creature's blood. Almos instantly, the man's memories flooded Lorand's mind in a sensation best compared to a combination of a tidal wave and falling snow. As luck would have it, Tetra possessed no knowledge of Lorand's true identity or motives. The blond couldn't help but scoff at the foolishness of it all. Why ever would the boy have allowed thing to escalate so far over a simple misunderstanding that could have just as easily been cleared up.

The mourning, if it could even be called that, lasted only a moment before Almos was once again focused on the second, far less vocal, street walker out and about this night. He'd been consistently approaching the weed this entire time and while Lorand may not have paid him much attention at a distance, the short man's inhuman nature was almost more apparent than the weed's had been. Gazing upon him with utter disinterest, Almos returned his chain to its coiled position around his left forearm.

"You were trying to kill the weed. Tell me why and while you're at it, tell me why I shouldn't smear you across the street right next to him," he said plainly. In much the same was as before, there was no overwhelming malice in the blond's voice, merely a sense of directness and finality. He would kill the one eyed midget or he would not. That was all there was to it.

No fair. He didn't have a fancy arm chain to kill people with. How was he expected to be able to compete with a guy like that? Thanks, Obama.

But, what's done is done. Now he just had to find him an antique Chinese tea set. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd do with it right now, but it would probably be useful in the future. Then, this guy just had to start talking. Boy, was his voice non-offensive and somewhat nice to hear. He had absolutely no ill will towards this vampire.

Picking his nose, he thumped the bat on the ground. "Blydunno," he responded to both comments, flicking a mass of skin and dirt he pulled out of his face. As blood ran from his nasal cavity (sharp claws were not the best instruments to pick your nose with), he extended his arm and motioned his fingers towards himself. "Give me head," he said, fingerings picking up speed while he bit down on his lower lip. "I need. For stuff. And things."

The shorter vampire was an odd one. In fact, he might have been the strangest member of their race he'd encountered yet. Definitely strange, but perhaps not all that stupid. It was a surprisingly common mistake that far too many people made these days, confusing insanity and eccentricity for stupidity. The later was relatively harmless, the former far less so.

He stood there a moment, simply staring at the shorter nosferatu, honestly not quite sure how to proceed. He didn't seem to be at all interested in Almos personally, he didn't seem to know anything of value, and he had yet to take any violent actions. There was no reason to go dropping his guard but Lorand didn't quite have reason to kill him just yet. Beyond that, if he was being completely honest with himself, he was curious what the one eyed bastard wanted to do with the severed head Almos was currently holding.

As far as he knew, it was a harmless request. Even if the little guy tasted the weed's blood, the power within it, the essence of the soul, was already trapped within Almos' own being. With a shrug, the blond vampire tossed the bloody remains to his new conversation partner. "Give me a reason to care or get out of my sight. I'm not about to hang out at a murder scene all night."

Grabbing the dripping head with large pieces of frontal lobe missing, he shook it around by the hair before spiking it into the road. "You broke the eyes!" he declared as the body part splattered into a red pile. The vampire's next words amused him. "I used to worry everyday," he sang, "Now I got better things," he stopped abruptly, smacking his bat against the ground in the form of some beat before ceasing the action altogether, along with any more of the song.

Doing a Michael Jackson twirl, he sniffed the air. "Anyone else smell wet dog?" he asked, likely referring to the stray canine eyeing them next to a building. Or maybe the Lycan watching from atop the same building. Could be either. Money was on the stray, though.

Watching the strange little troll fuss about with a severed head was mildly entertaining for how long it actually lasted. If nothing else, Almos had to give him credit for not making a drawn out production of it. Plus, he'd been good enough to reveal that it was the eyes he was interested in, no doubt connected to the gaping eye socket he was barely hiding with those oddly colored bangs. That being said, his incoherent blabbering was quickly beginning to irk the blond vampire to the point that Almos was beginning to leave the fool to his mania when the wet dog was made. Sniffing the air himself, Almos was able to quickly hone in on the scent Seymour had mentioned. From there it was a simple process to narrow things down further still with his vampiric third eye until he was able to spy the outline of their observer's form atop a nearby building.

Groaning audibly, Almos shook his head in exasperation. He'd chosen Canada, specifically Canada, for the chance to lay low from supernatural powers that be and now not only two vampires, but a goddamn werewolf had shown up in a single night. Honestly, what were the chances? Hands slipping into his coat pockets, Lorand turned to leave the scene after double checking to make sure he was outside of the one eye'd vampires striking range. "Play with the dog yourself, madman. I've had enough of this for one night."

Taking it as a sign of affirmation, he rushed towards the stray waving his bat in the air. It took off in the opposite direction but got nowhere before it was tackled into a pile of garbage.

From atop the apartments, the wolf man leaped from to the pavement between both men. Ignoring the vampire holding the broken-necked dog, he walked towards the blond. "Our master requires your presence. I'll need you to follow me."

He went after the actual stray dog. Of course he went after the freaking dog. With each passing step, Almos was becoming more and more thankful for his decision to remove himself from the ridiculous scene as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, his attempts to make good on that decision were cut short after only a few steps when the werewolf decided to make himself known. Pausing for a moment, Lorand made a half turn back to look at the lycan over his shoulder.

"Where I come from, dogs don't order people around. I couldn't care less what your master wants, puppy."

"You have been selected. That was no a request. It was an order." And then came the dog. Spiraling through the air, the werewolf was force to turn and slash the poor creature's body in half after it was tossed like a football by the vampire. Smacking the bat from side to side against the pavement, he charged the Lycan with a twirl and a two-handed crack of the bat.

"Notice me, senpai!" he wailed, the bat impacting the wolf's raised forearms. The wood began to crack, being of inferior quality. It wasn't able to handle its wielder's massive strength.